


critical parameter

by digitalfairy



Category: Final Fantasy XIV
Genre: Alphascape V4.0 Spoilers, Game Mechanics Treated As Lore, Multi, Profligate Technobabble Cause I Love Writing It, Reader-Insert, Robot Sex, Threesome - F/F/M, induced arousal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-18
Updated: 2019-01-18
Packaged: 2019-10-12 02:04:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17458526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/digitalfairy/pseuds/digitalfairy
Summary: Omega-M & Omega-F end up double teaming a female paladin WoL, thanks to her own penchant for swearing and a series of hacking missteps from everyone's favorite asshat engineer. Step into her shoes for a bit, and try to convince yourself it's for the good of the realm.tl;dr flagrant and unmitigated self-indulgence(The consent here is just a smidge sketchy on both sides thanks to the presence of what could be construed as aphrodesiacs if you squint. Consume responsibly.)





	critical parameter

The distracting chime in your ear nearly ends your life, Omega’s sword thrust barely parried away from your heart by a panicked swipe of your shield. “What the hells? Who is this? Cid? Are you safe? Did you get out of the rift?” Your desperate dance with Omega’s masculine aspect continues as you speak, but you’re forced to keep an eye on what the feminine form is doing in the background too, lest her spells find their mark. There’s a lot to focus on already and the linkpearl isn’t helping.

“He’s right here, but more importantly, so am I,” Nero tol Scaeva’s smarmy voice answers. “And I’ve wonderful news for you.”

“Well, get to it, I’m fuckin’ busy here!” You wonder what the other Garlean engineer is doing out of bed - last you saw him, he looked like death was tickling him under the chin with a bony finger - but you don’t voice your question. You don’t have time to listen to him ramble.

“Oh, I don’t know if I should say. Our silvery friend might overhear.” Indeed, Omega does seem to be aware of the communication traveling through the virtual space it created, though it hardly affects its deadly precision. You’ve parried half a dozen blows in the time it took Nero to tease you with that sentence. You grunt, annoyed.

And indeed, Nero does not immediately explain. The first sign of the engineer’s meddling comes as the sudden cessation of magical bombardment from Omega-F. Omega-M jerks his head around to look at her still form before he too goes numb and unmoving. Frozen in time, the both of them flicker and twitch. You are thoroughly aghast. “What did you do?”

“The simulation reconfiguring itself left a security hole! So naturally, all the time you’ve been entertaining dear old Omega, I’ve been slithering my way inside. I just released a nasty worm that’ll keep their forms frozen for a bit. Don’t worry, it shouldn’t do anything to your own code.”

“My what? Where did you get a worm?” This magitek stuff has always gone a little over your head.

“Ugh, forget it. It won’t hold them for long, but that’ll give me time to mess with your own parameters a little. Thought I’d give you a little edge. Aren’t I nice?”

You snort. Nero grumbles about your lack of gratitude and all of a sudden you feel your body growing stiffer, harder to move. “Okay, okay, sorry! What are you _doing_ to me?!”

“I thought that effect would make you tougher. More durable, so you could shrug off their blows. These datafields aren’t very intuitively named, my apologies,” and the stiffness goes away.

“Wait, wait, now that you mention it… that felt like a really strong Stoneskin,” you exclaim. The stiffness comes back again. “But it makes it so hard to move.” The stiffness remains, but your limbs suddenly feel buoyed, and the extra magicked armor no longer impedes your movement.

“How’s that? I tried to hack together my own version of Haste with the premade effects.” You certainly feel hastier, and you report as much over the linkpearl. “Good. Now, let’s see… how can we make your piddling blows compare to Omega’s?”

Nero’s voice goes silent for a while, then you feel fresh strength surge through your body. “It’s working!” You eye the frozen Omegas… who are now less frozen and more moving as if through cold molasses. “Whatever you did to them is wearing off,” you warn.

“I know. It’s patching the simulation as we speak, closing my backdoor.” The linkpearl connection is suddenly staticky. “I’ve only got time for a few more. Maybe this?”

You’re brought to your knees by a throbbing rush of heat. “Oh gods, what’s that supposed to be,” you pant, breathing quickening. “Is… did you just Seduce me?” Been a while since _that_ was used on you. You think blearily back to Lakshmi, wishing drunkenly that she’d take you unto her bosom again… “No! Stop thinking about that!” You clonk yourself on the side of your helmet with your armored fist, to little avail.

Nero swears into your ear, but you can barely hear him, and he doesn’t respond directly to your breathless cries. The fog in your mind only intensifies. The linkpearl squawks intermittently and you only catch fragments of his voice. “I can’t…………… breaking……………………… you hear me? Is………………… your third-rate equipment is malfunctioning, Cid…………… The connection…………… time for one last……………”

The pair of Omegas swirling sluggishly towards you are suddenly struck again with some sort of malevolent code. Their bodies tremble like they’ve been hooked up to a live wire. “Temporary directive reassignment,” they monotone in unison. “Please clearly state directive following the tone. Omega system will endeavor to fulfill directive for one bell.”

A slight pause, then an earsplitting beep that seems to come from all around you. Dazed as you are, it’s all the more painful, and you swear, clutching your head. “Fuck me! What was that?!”

It’s still ringing in your ears when you hear the linkpearl crackling to life again. “Hah! Can’t lock me out for long. Found a different backdoor. Did you like the other little virus I made?” Nero inquires. Omega announces something in the background at the same time. You pay it no mind - it’s always spewing some technobabble or other, and Nero is _marginally_ less confusing to listen to.

“What… what did you do to it this time?” You loosen your helmet - it’s getting very hot in there. You fan yourself with your gauntlet, not achieving much.

“Oh nothing, just force executed a hidden maintenance mode for testing Omega’s directive system. I hope you gave them something entertaining to do while you execute them, like cower, or grovel. I’ve only just got my signal back, so I missed everything that happened after I pushed the code.”

“I… I didn’t, uh… why the hells did you afflict me with Seduced, I can’t fight like this…” You take the helmet off completely. You glance at your reflection in its shiny metal surface - you’re sporting a bright blush.

“Oh, is that what that does.” A nervous chuckle. “Sorry. From the name it sounded like some sort of nervous system energizer. Thought maybe we could squeeze out a little more Haste, or perhaps some Refresh to keep you going longer.” Nero clears his throat. “I… can’t get back into the parameter subsystem, they locked me out,” he admits helplessly. “I’ll keep trying, but I think you’re stuck like that for now. You’ll have to push through until the duration of the effect expires.”

“Ugh.” You groan. It comes out a little breathier than you intended.

“…Don’t tell me it’s actually giving you trouble, eikon-slayer?” Nero taunts.

You sigh and get to your feet, swaying a little. It’s not the first time you’ve had your mind meddled with during a fight, though it is one of the more distracting such effects you’ve suffered. “Okay, you can do this,” you try to convince yourself, readying your blade and shield once more and exhaling a shaky breath. Gods, you’re tingly.

“Vernacular interpretation complete,” Omega announces with a beep. “Directive validated. Assembling new adaptive subroutine… <click> Complete. Commencing copulation.”

“Commencing _what_?!” Nero sputters. “What did you say while I had no signal?!”

“What? I didn’t give it any orders…” You blearily think backwards. Did you…? Oh, gods. You stumble backwards, recognizing your mistake. “Ah, fuck me,” you eloquently repeat.

Omega’s two pairs of eyes follow your retreat. “Loading procedure library for <blip> Eorzean mating rituals.”

For once in his life, Nero is temporarily speechless. Cid’s voice comes over the linkpearl instead. “We’re working as hard as we can to rectify this situation, just… sit tight?”

“I… Uh… I’ll try?” What have you gotten yourself into this time. Your body burns with unwanted lust, your mind swims with unbidden fantasies, and Omega advances on you steadily, deliberately.

You have to admit, the pair are both very pretty in their own way. The masculine one has a casual, confident stride when he doesn’t levitate outright, and his outfit hugs his toned form so gloriously. The window in his low-cut shirt provides a wonderfully suggestive view of his sharply defined chest and abdomen. The feminine one is slender and graceful, but not so slender as to be without enticing curves. Both of them have lovely full lips and attractively detached pouts. Is any of that normally something you find attractive? You don’t especially remember. Their every quality fills you with desire, in your fugue of artificial lust. You heave a defeated sigh and let your weapons drop to the ground, unbuckling one of your gauntlets.

“Oh, for crying out loud… I hope you’re not thinking what I think you’re thinking.” Nero’s voice has a tone of panic in in that you’ve never heard before, not even when you gained the upper hand in your battle against him ever so long ago.

You giggle, hearing the pompous Garlean so flustered. “They said they would only fulfill the order for one bell. Once that’s done, my head’ll be a lot clearer and I can fight again.” Your own justification for your decision sounds faintly ridiculous even to you when said out loud, but you don’t intend to recant it. Your other gauntlet slips off and clunks to the floor. “This won’t be so bad. They’re at least humanoid, and close to my size.” They’re at least two heads taller, but you’ve always preferred to be dwarfed by your partners. Or is the debuff putting that thought in your head? Either way you imagine you’ll enjoy it.

Nero makes an anguished sound. “By the Emperor… or, what is it you Eorzeans swear by? By the ‘Twelve?’ Whatever. I’m cutting the feed, I am _not_ watching this. Enjoy yourself, y-you ravening harlot.” Your linkpearl goes quiet.

“Good riddance,” you tell the silence as you sit down to remove your sabatons. You certainly don’t want anyone else witnessing this.

Omega reaches you and its halves each take a knee beside you. “Do you require assistance disrobing?” the masculine one asks.

“That… would be great, actually, it’s a pain getting this breastplate off by myself.” Finished with the sabatons’ buckles, you slither your way out of the boots and stand up with your back to him.

“Acknowledged,” Omega-M monotones, and puts his hands on your shoulders, feeling out the nuances of your armor. You groan, wishing you could feel those large hands through your platemail. Soon, you remind yourself. As you’re standing there, glancing over your shoulder to admire his jawline, you feel the feminine one approach from the front. She runs her hands up your legs and begins unfastening your trousers.

“Oh!” You look forwards and are greeted with her neutral expression, her shutter irises calmly staring you down. Hesitantly, you reach a hand out to touch the side of her cheek, brushing her synthetic hair aside to stroke it. It has a realistic amount of softness to it, which is a pleasant surprise to you given that you’re caressing a cold machine. A… very cold machine. “Um… you’re quite chilly. Could you make your skin warmer?”

“Acknowledged. <blip> Physiological models also suggest your sexual enjoyment may be impeded by cooler temperatures. Diverting excess energy to exterior coating as warmth.” The smooth skin under your hand gradually warms until it reaches an almost-living temperature.

While they heat themselves up for you, and you gradually heat up more for them, Omega’s two halves remove your plackart, pauldrons, gambeson, and outer trousers, leaving you standing in just your plain sleeveless undershirt and your tights. Not too dissimilar from Omega-F’s outfit, you realize foggily.

“Is full nudity preferable?” Omega-F asks, tidily folding up your pants and setting them aside.

“Procedure library is incomplete. Insufficient observational data. Real-time data-gathering may be necessary,” Omega-M announces, seemingly feeling the need to explain why she asks.

“Um, later,” you answer. “For now, just, uh… touching?” The part of your mind that remains rational wars with the part lost to artificial desire. Perhaps… perhaps foreplay will help you forget exactly what’s actually happening here? That might be an acceptable compromise for both halves. Gods, this is weird. But so right…

You let out a desperate, frustrated noise, coinciding with Omega-F’s hand coming to rest on your leg again. “Is this manner of stimulation inadequate?” she wonders, halting her motion. Omega-M hovers behind you, also paused.

“N-no, it’s fine,” you breathlessly wave her off, looking away. “Keep going.” Now that she’s warm to the touch it’s actually pretty enjoyable. And you always were sensitive on the inner thigh. “Oohhh.”

Omega-M joins in by caressing your shoulders and upper arms. You arch your back, pressing yourself into his touch with a stifled gasp. He responds by pressing a little harder, employing his machine strength to keeping you from toppling backwards.

“Is vocalization required?” Omega-F asks, trying to lean over to meet your eyes. You bite your lip and make eye contact again.

“No, not really.” The more they talk, the harder it is to forget what they are. But is that so bad, you wonder? Their mechanical emotionlessness is kind of hot.

No, that’s Nero’s botched bit of coding driving you to think that.

…But is it really?

Your internal struggle continues. You need more distraction. “H-higher,” you gasp, as her hand traces your upper thigh. She obeys, fingers coming close to but not actually touching the crotch of your tights.

Omega-M, meanwhile, has worked his way down your sides to your hips. A lock of his dramatic hair brushes your neck as he leans over your shoulder, glancing down at his opposite number and then turning back to you. “Proceeding with vocalization regardless,” he whispers into your ear. “Your form is adequately desirable according to observed beauty standards for your race.”

You giggle softly. Somehow, the war machine’s begrudging, stilted compliment helped break the tension. “Now, don’t make a _habit_ of flaunting my requests,” you gently scold him, reaching up to cup his chin, “but I guess you can keep buttering me up if you like.”

“Acknowledged,” comes the crisp whisper. “Constructing additional praise… Your fighting style is deft. Your ability to adapt rivals mine own.” Not what you’re looking for, but you’ll take it. His hand glides smoothly up your front, taking the thin camise with it.

Omega-F joins in. “You <blip> possess an ideal combination of qualities.” You sigh and reach down to touch her hair. “Subject seems to harbor fondness for touching face and head,” she quietly notes. “Party member, attempt reciprocation.”

Omega-M does so, his free hand coming to rest amidst your hair while the one tracing up your stomach comes into contact with your right breast. Five soft points of pressure on your scalp, gently massaging, have you arching your back into him even more. You let out a needy whine.

“Experiment successful,” Omega-F notes. Are you imagining the note of smugness in her voice? You don’t have too much time to think analytically about that, as she moves her head up to place a soft kiss on your bared stomach. Then another, and another. Oh, gods, those lips are everything you imagined they’d be. As you throw your head back, Omega-M ambushes you with another kiss on your neck, provoking a moan.

“You appear ready,” hypothesizes Omega-M into your ear. “Proceeding to next sequence on your confirmation.”

Are you ready to take the plunge and actually do this? _Yes_ , screams your body; _as I’ll ever be_ , sighs your mind. “Go ahead,” you whisper tremulously.

The gentle hand on your breast tightens a little, then withdraws. Your undershirt remains disarrayed as Omega-M grabs your shoulders and sits down on a featureless cube that materializes especially for the purpose, pulling you into his lap.

Omega-F crawls upwards to lean over you, distracting you with kisses while her partner situates himself. She withdraws only momentarily so Omega-M can pull off your shirt. Her hands find their way down to your waistband and strip you of your tights too. Fully exposed now, you wrap your arms around yourself nervously until she returns to comfort you with her lips again.

Very sensitive now, you become keenly aware of the sharp, decorative ridges on Omega-M’s full-body garment as you press against it. “Your clothes hurt,” you softly murmur, shifting uncomfortably in his lap and trying not to put too much weight on it. Though not as much as they might, you admit to yourself. Nero’s skin-toughening hack seems to be holding strong.

“Removing offending stimulus,” he replies, and you feel the clothes melt away under you. His bare thighs are much more comfortable, though the realization of what might be directly behind you now gives you pause. Hesitantly, you glance over your shoulder to look.

It’s intimidating, if at least proportional to his statuesque height. Omega’s attention to anatomical detail is impressive; it’s an absolutely beautiful example of its kind. You bite your lip nervously and look away again. What have you gotten yourself into, you wonder for the millionth time, even as your afflicted mind roils with renewed lust at the brief glimpse of its slight curve. He looked practically neuter in the outfit. Where was he hiding that thing?

“Adjustments can be made if necessary,” Omega-M drones. He only sees your reaction, not your inner emotions. “My sexual apparatus has been sized to fit within your projected possible dimensions. Speak up if said projection strikes you as inaccurate.”

Is there _anything_ about you Omega hasn’t made a comprehensive virtual model of? If you weren’t already burning with heat, your cheeks would be flushing red. “O-okay…” You move to look up at Omega-F’s calm face, desperate to distract your racing mind, but on the way there your gaze stalls due to the fact that her outfit has also vanished. She reaches down to caress you again and you tremble at her touch.

Omega-M is kind enough to distract you from your _new_ string of unbidden fantasies by brushing your backside as he grows erect. You tense up, and just as you’re relaxing, Omega-F’s fingers slide down your stomach and gently cup around your own sex. “Nnhh!” She’s gentle, though, and very meticulous, tracing perfect geometric circles against your soft lower lips. You reach up to cup her face in your hands and urge her closer, wanting her mouth on yours.

Omega-M’s hands clasp your hips as you kiss his opposite number. He lifts you slightly, pulling you backwards. Omega-F follows your face precisely; the kiss remains unbroken despite the movement. You feel her spread your lips wide for Omega-M, two fingers on each side as that shapely crown brushes against you. “Prepare yourself,” instructs Omega-M, relaxing his grip and letting gravity do the work. This is going to be a stretch. At least there’s no pain as he slowly guides you down, thanks to the slippery liquid the machine seems to have had the foresight to apply to his member.

Turns out Omega’s estimation was accurate. The exactitude of the fit might impress you more if you weren’t currently reeling from the sensation of him hilting himself. Though snug, it only gently brushes up against your limits, it doesn’t push them. Why does Omega have the faculties to estimate things like this? Another question you don’t consider as he guides your hips back and forth, acclimatizing you to your new state of fullness.

Omega-F finally breaks from your lips, leaving them tingling and parted. She looms over you silently for a moment longer before picking up where Omega-M’s hands left off: caressing your upper body. Her mouth finds your neck to administer dry, calculated kisses that nevertheless have you gasping softly in tactile pleasure. “Evaluation suggests this might have been a more effective battle strategy. Observe subject’s helpless state,” she murmurs close to your ear. Helpless? Determined to prove her wrong, you fight through your mental fog to reach blindly up and caress her breast. That’ll show her.

“Subject indeed appears mostly overcome,” her partner tonelessly agrees. “Now proceeding to next subprocess.” His hands find your hips and begin gently sliding you back and forth on his lap.

 _This_ pushes at your limits, but not in a painful way. “Nnnhhhh. How’d you know that’d feel good?” You arch your back, your head brushing his firm chest.

“Extrapolation.” He refuses to elaborate.

Omega-F pulls your shoulders forward again in a silent demand that you continue paying attention to her. You delightedly oblige. There’s a lot of her to occupy your hands with, and any time your focus wanes she steals it back with a firm kiss on the lips or elsewhere. Everywhere she kisses brings fresh tingles to keep you breathless.

“Intensifying stimulation further.” Omega-M braces his hands on the cube and begins to hoist you up with his hips. A few ilms of that perfect length are exposed at the apex of the bounce, now sloppy and slick with your fluids in addition to the machine’s synthetic lubricant, and then abruptly covered again. The sudden descent draws a gasp of surprise from you, even though you knew it was coming.

This comes to represent the new paradigm. Omega-M gently bounces his lap and you with it, gradually increasing both distance and speed in what you’re sure is a perfect linear function. You contribute where you can, bare toes and knees fighting for purchase on the smooth featureless surface of Omega-M’s seat. Being much larger than you, however, he ultimately controls the pace. Not that you entirely mind that.

Omega-F keeps you upright and aligned as her opposite number increases the speed and force he imparts, though you could easily mistake her bracing for caressing and teasing. Her hands certainly rove with the same keen inquisitiveness with which the machine evaluated your combat acumen.

The luxurious motion of Omega-M within you, Omega-F’s hands playing across your skin, it all steadily chips away your remaining worries and stresses, and you let yourself sink into ecstasy.

Your climax surprises you. You’d thought you were already at the peak of what you could feel. Your soft, prolonged moan breaks the verbal silence.

“Orgasm confirmed.” It’s so strange to hear words like that in Omega’s synthesized voice. Not strange enough to jar you out of the throes of pleasure, but strange enough to register. The stimulus continues from both of Omega’s halves until the afterglow arrives. You’re left panting.

“Well, that was different,” you murmur, when you’ve recovered enough to speak. You shift in Omega-M’s lap, still firmly skewered, and partly turn around to look him in his expressionless eyes. “Is the bell over? I’ve lost track of time.”

His response shocks you. “It has been <blip> twelve minutes and <blip> fifty-six seconds.” It felt like an eternity… well, you suppose you haven’t had any in a while, and being Seduced seems to further enhance your sensitivity in addition to making your mind roil with intrusive sexual thoughts. Which it is still doing. Gods damn it.

“Does that mean you’re going to continue?” You bite your lip.

“Affirmative.”

* * *

“…Okay, _now_ has it been a bell?” you breathlessly ask, rolling off Omega-F’s face and curling up on the floor. You trust Omega’s mechanical timekeeping, if nothing else. Certainly more than you trust your own sense of time while wading through dazed afterglow after dazed afterglow and perceiving everything at the enhanced rate enabled by Nero’s Haste. At least the induced arousal is finally starting to fade, though your head is far from clear.

“It’s been… rather more than that, I’m afraid.” Cid hesitantly speaks up over the linkpearl. “By my clock… three and three-quarter bells. Give or take.”

You sit bolt upright, covering your chest and crotch with one arm each. “Cid! Gods, I’m not _dressed!_ ” Just like that, your face is burning again. You hurriedly rummage for your underwear.

“The video feed has been disabled ever since we turned it on after a bell to see you… to see you f-f…” Nero fails to finish the sentence and finally settles on less specific phrasing. “...To see you still entangled with the thing. D-don’t worry your pretty little head. We don’t want to see that any more than _you_ want us to.” A disgruntled cough and then a pause. “…Did you _at least_ subdue the sentient intergalactic superweapon, after you sated your filthy urges with it?” The scorn fails to mask the embarrassment in his words.

“Uh…” You glance back to where Omega’s halves are still seated on the ground, still nude, watching you expectantly. “Not really? But if the bell’s long over, why aren’t they attacking again?”

“Refinement of deficient procedure library <click> superseded perfection of near-perfect procedure library in priority schema,” Omega-M speaks up.

“To phrase it the way mortals like yourself might, we were sating our curiosity,” Omega-F elaborates. “Your indulgence is appreciated.”

The machine kept you climaxing over and over again for bells because it _felt like it_? You return Omega-F’s cool stare with a slack-jawed look of utter confusion.

“Our sexual database is still infinitesimal in scope compared to our eon-spanning combat log,” Omega-M continues, arching an eyebrow. “Participant, do you wish to aid us in expanding it further?”

You pause, one leg of your tights on and one leg off. The question would not have vexed you nearly as much four bells ago. As insane as all of this was from any remotely cognitive standpoint… the machine was _actually really good_ _at sex_.

“Maybe one more,” you finally decide, to a clamor of exclamations from the pair of engineers listening in. With a tap of your finger behind your ear, you silence the linkpearl, and turn back towards the silvery pair.


End file.
